Louisville, Taylor Swift and Hipsters Man
by wedenyorembrace
Summary: AU Where Santana is in New York and about to perform for the first time outside of the cage dancing world; she's back to singing! Brittany isn't there but she is being thought about a lot. Mild swearing for any young readers, because it is Santana after all.


A/N: Had this idea for a while now, I truly hope it worked out. I'm not completely happy with the dialogue and thought process in it but really want to get it out there for some feedback! Enjoy.

Eyeing the small turnout for tonights performance I find Tom? Terry? Tony? Fuck I don't care. I walk over to sign in.

"Hey, I'm Santana. Just wanting to let you know I showed."

"Great! Thanks! Can't wait to hear your song," he says all too excitedly. Someone's been taking advantage of the caffeine availability in his shop.

I manage to roll my eyes out of his line of sight. I mean I'm all for people being excited over life, but this hole in the wall café is probably just getting by. I carry my gaze to the makeshift stage and head over, exchange pleasantries with the guys there and go over the requirements for my song.

Satisfied, I head to the counter and get my own caffeine fix. It's gonna be a long night in this place and who knows how many horrible poetry slams/attempts at poetic rapping I'm gonna have to endure this time. Fucking hipsters and their love for things just barely against the norm and having to shove it down others' throats. Time to go over the words for my actual song.

Fucking Louisville. It's that damn city's fault. Well not so much the city but her damn hicker than hick roommate Jessica and her love for Taylor Swift.

Okay. So maybe Taylor Swift isn't all that bad, but I'll be damned if people actually know I think that. What kind of rep would I have if it got out that Santana fucking Lopez related to so many of her sappy love-struck chart toppers? There wouldn't be one, not after word got out that is.

I can't fully blame Jessica though, every since I sang Mine to Britt Britt, Taylor Swift has meant a lot more to me. I'm still so mad at myself about that. Why couldn't I have just told her how much it was killing me being apart from her as well? I didn't need to exaggerate a lingering glance with that hipster girl from the coffee shop off campus. Why did I ruin a relationship with Britt that's spanned over our childhood over a 10 second lingering glance across a shitty coffee shop? What was I so stupid? That day in the choir room, I tainted all those smiles that she'd send my way; it was our spot and I just threw the significance of it out the back windows along with both of our hearts.

I've been missing Britt a lot. New York is great, but not talking to my best friend is taking it's toll. Kurt and Rachel are good friends but they don't know me even half as well as Britt. I miss just being able to look into her blue eyes and her know what I'm feeling without verbalizing it. Aw fuck I'm even thinking in big words like Berry now.

They were right this time around though, I don't need to be a cage dancer to get my taste for performing. That's the whole reason why I'm here in this out-of-the-way coffee shop on a Thursday evening for their open mic night. It's not the Gershwin Theatre or even Madison Square Garden but pervy old men aren't trying to slip more than tips into my outfit either. I need to get back to performing though, this will be my singing debut of New York. It's not much, but at least these wannabe hipster regulars won't be too critical. They are just pretending to have a base of knowledge on all things, they can just leave good music critiques to Berry. Not tonight though, tonight is just for me.

"Next up is Santana." I hear being called from the makeshift stage about 20 minutes later.

As I make my way up I can feel eyes on my progression but I don't care. I'm a Nationally ranked Cheerio and glee cub member, a couple dozen eyes does nothing to me. I know I look hot, and nothing in my attire screams hipster; I know how to make my presence known in a room. My skinny jeans are tucked into my favourite ankle boot and leave nothing to the imagine. My ass looks fantastic, fact. The classic leather jacket I'm wearing with a sheer red button up to finish the outfit off looks fierce, Tyra would be proud.

Sitting down on the stool I adjust the mic to my height. Taking a deep breathe I say, "Hey, I'm is a song that means a lot to me, I wanted to cover it so here goes" I end with a wink, I can still be a flirt after all. Turning to the guitarist I nod and settle in for the intro as I count myself in.

_I bet this time of night you're still up._

_I bet you're tired from a long hard week._

_I bet you're sitting in your chair by the window looking out at the city._

_And I bet sometimes you wonder about me._

I'm singing to Britt, everyone else has disappeared and I close my eyes and transport myself back into the choir room.

_And I just wanna tell you_

_It takes everything in me not to call you._

_And I wish I could run to you._

_And I hope you know that every time I don't_

_I almost do,_

_I almost do._

_I bet you think I either moved on or hate you_

_'Cause each time you reach out there's no reply._

I could never hate her, I can feel a small smile makes its way to my face as I think how silly it would be for her to think I hate her.

_I bet it never ever occurred to you that I can't say "Hello" to you_

_And risk another goodbye._

_And I just wanna tell you_

_It takes everything in me not to call you._

_And I wish I could run to you._

_And I hope you know that every time I don't_

_I almost do,_

_I almost do._

_Oh, we made quite a mess, babe._

_It's probably better off this way._

_And I confess, babe,_

_In my dreams you're touching my face_

_And asking me if I wanna try again with you._

_And I almost do._

My hands are no longer still on my things, they've come up to be level with the microphone to accentuate my singing as I pour everything into these verses. These are the ones that time and time again I relate to more than I want to really consider.

_And I just wanna tell you_

_It takes everything in me not to call you._

_And I wish I could run to you._

_And I hope you know that every time I don't_

_I almost do,_

_I almost do._

_I bet this time of night you're still up._

_I bet you're tired from a long hard week._

_I bet you're sitting in your chair by the window looking out at the city._

_And I hope sometimes you wonder about me._

Opening my eyes I can see that people are clapping but couldn't hear them until seeing their pleased faces. Readjusting to the dim lighting and coffee bean underlying aroma, I smile appreciatively and give a nod to my backup guitarist who helped me make the intimate performance I had hoped to achieve, I head off stage.

The rush is there, this was my first singing performance since moving to New York. Berry and Lady Pants forcing me to sing along to musicals don't count. They're not here, this was for me and me alone. I know I need to perform, I just didn't realize how strong it was until I went without for so long.

I didn't know the hipster nerd sitting dead centre blogs everything in his life and that my performance was being uploaded to youtube as I pulled my coat up around my face to help me fight the fierce New York wind. I didn't know the blonde whose been on my mind since we were 7 was just a few clicks away from seeing my performance. I didn't know that one hole in the wall performance at a café would turn my miserable cage dancing days to an end and become a well known name in hipster hangouts.

I didn't know how fast the internet worked, or how a performance video from a dive café can become trending so quickly, but I don't care either.

Thank fucking god for Louisville, Taylor Swift and hipsters.

Don't ever tell anyone you heard it from me though.


End file.
